A Warped Sense of Humor
by Spere
Summary: Being thrown in the middle of a situation filled with people you distrust, a god you don't believe in, and a mark that burns like hell can only be described as a migraine, but unfortunately Cinna Lavellan must learn to deal with it. It doesn't help that the mark has started to spread again, though. Story begins to diverge post-Haven, obvious spoilers for in-game quests!
1. Prologue

**Hopping on the bandwagon and writing out my Inquisitor's adventures. Deviates from the story line and adds on background to Lavellan; first time writing fanfiction for Dragon Age, so bear with me! **

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><p>"Lady herald."<p>

"Madame Lavellan."

"Your holiness."

The titles were strange, foreign, and spoken with a strange amount of respect to the Dalish elf that walked slowly down the gravel paths of Haven. The words seemed to fly in one delicately pointed ear and out the other, the elf's mind too muddled with other thoughts to really register that these people, these shems, were staring at her with a mixture of respect and awe.

Minutes- no, seconds!- ago, she had been haggled into helping these damn humans seal what could only be described as giant tears in the sky that seemed to weep demons and other nasty things.

Not exactly the most pleasant type of encounter, and yet it had become painfully apparent that she was snared in this mess, thanks to the jagged luminescent mark on her left palm. The source of her current predicament.

Cinna vaguely wondered if cutting off her left arm was a viable option.

Judging by the dozens of eyes that watched her every move, she supposed it wasn't.

Despite the fact that she was an elf, despite the fact that she had no clue what was going on, despite the fact that no matter how much she racked her mind she could remember nothing, and despite the fact that she had _just_ met these _shems_ and felt absolutely _no_ obligation to help them, she was now trapped in what had hastily been declared as the revived Inquisition.

Fantastic.

Cinna had to force herself not to stomp as she went back to the rather dilapidated 'house' that she had woken up in. Even though she wandered around Haven prior to that woman- what was her name? Cass... Ah, Cassandra- decided to whip out a surprisingly large, ancient book to declare the Inquisition up and running, the only other elves she had encountered had very clearly been servants. Servants, or bald apostates.

Quite frankly, she would rather associate herself with the servants than Solas. It was quite clear that the mage elf shunned her heritage, and so she had refrained from attempting any more conversations with him to avoid even _more_ conflict within this tiny hell hole.

Kicking the door to the cottage open, Cinna entered, the unfamiliar feeling of solid walls surrounding her, pushing in on her, made her feel uneasy, but it wasn't nearly as bad as how uncomfortable she felt under the scrutiny of so many Haven villagers, refugees, soldiers, and whatever else had been dragged to this tiny little village.

She collapsed on the makeshift bed, burying her face in the thin pillow.

Sweet Mythal, just what had she gotten in to?

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	2. Rams, wolves, and templars, oh my!

**Apologies, the first two chapters might be a smidge boring, lol**

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><p>It shouldn't have been surprising to her whenever she was suddenly having a bow shoved into her hands and she was being practically dragged off to the Hinterlands by Seeker Cassandra. Yet it was. Especially considering the dwarf and elf decided to join them... or in Varric's case, she supposed, was half forced to.<p>

And so she found herself strolling leisurely through the forests of the Hinterlands with Cassandra, Varric, and Solas following behind her... Faintly, Cinna had wondered if she could make a dash for it, but she had a bad feeling that she wouldn't get too far, judging by the stiff position of the seeker who was obviously ready to bodily tackle anyone who tried to run.

"Mother Giselle should be at the Crossroads, let's head there as quickly as possible," Cassandra's voice abruptly crushed and sprouting ideas of escaping, and Cinna realized that she had been speeding up her pace ever so slightly as she weaved through the flora of the forests with practiced ease.

Apparently her discomfort with their little posse was a bit too evident, and Cinna offered a thin smile," Of course, Seeker... but I can not make the road lead there any faster."

And so they walked in an uncomfortable silence once again, the only sound seeming to come from the occasional ram being startled and fennec dashing from behind a bush.

Boring, uneventful, and to the point where Cinna actually considered making a break for it just to cause _some_ sort of action, the sound of metal hitting metal suddenly penetrated the thick veil of silence. Immediately, the elf picked up her pace, trotting farther ahead to see just what the commotion was about; finally something interesting! Possibly dangerous, but then what wasn't? And what wasn't going to be in the future, anyway?

It didn't take long to figure out the problem; rebel templars and apostate mages causing a ruckus. The Inquisition's humble amount of soldiers were doing their best to defend the townspeople from the crossfire, but it was quite clear that a few toes were going to be cut off if back up didn't arrive soon.

Arrows whizzed through the air from Varrick and Cinna, Cassandra shouting a war cry before charging into the middle of the fray, and Solas supporting with barriers of magic that wrapped around their forms, the scent and feeling of magic heavy in the air. Cinna let the arrows fly from her fingers quickly and gracefully, the sharp points finding their way into chinks of the templar's armor, or into a generously unprotected leg of a rebel mage.

For once, since her rather rude awakening, her rather rude interogation, and her rather rude help-save-this-town-or-else-we'll-kill-you adventure, Cinna felt relaxed. She felt relaxed as she let loose arrow after arrow, felt relaxed as she heard shouts of pain as rebel after rebel fell, felt relaxed as she finally was in her element.

It was invigorating.

For the first time since she had woken from the Fade, Cinna smiled geuninely.

The meeting with Mother Giselle ended with the woman departing for Haven as soon as she was able to. It was a relief to have the matter settled so quickly, and the small party roamed the Crossroads, Cinna speaking softly to the Inquisition forces that tended to the refuges. Hunger and the cold seemed to be the most evident problems, and so they set off, gathering resources and marking out the caches of apostates for their forces.

The elf couldn't complain; it was better work than loitering around, and she found that she enjoyed being in the woods much more than towns. For some reason, a sense of wariness always washed over her whenever she stepped foot into the shem-made villages, but no matter how hard she racked her mind for something to grasp, something to understand, nothing came up other than a vague idea that humans weren't exactly the most trustworthy folk. That much was certainly evident given her current experience.

Still though, Cinna found she couldn't exactly turn a blind eye to the starving, terrified faces of the people that needed help.

She sighed as she shot yet _another_ ram, the arrow burying itself into the poor beast's neck. Tendrils of ice immediately encrusted the ram's furry legs as Solas let loose a spell, thankfully freezing their prey and preventing it from fleeing. With another arrow, courtesy of Varric, the ram was brought down.

"That should be enough for the refugees, right?" Cinna asked, taking out a knife and setting to stripping the beast of its hide and meat. She wasn't quite sure how she knew just where to make the incision so the flesh wasn't torn, and the skin stayed intact, or how she knew which pieces of the ram would yield the most tender meat, but she didn't question it.

It was strange.

Cinna was _aware_ that she was an elf, this much being obvious due to the delicate point of her ears and her smaller structure in comparisson to, say, Cassandra... And she was _aware_ that she was different than the elves that scurried around Haven following the commands that the humans shouted at them, usually these commands having underhanded insults attached to them. She knew that she came from a Dalish clan, these clans residing in the forests throughout Thedas, yet whenever she tried to think of specifics, nothing came. It was like seeing something at the bottom of a pool, reaching for it, and finding that it is just out of reach.

So she shoved her muddled memory aside and instead focused on wiping the blood off her hands and blade. "Honestly, how much do you humans _eat_?" she asked as she wrapped up the bloodied slabs of meat, putting it in her pack and then hefting it onto her back; damn the thing was getting heavy!

"We _are_ feeding an entire camp of refugees, you know... It's not like just one person is going to eat all this. Ugh, let's just head back; it's starting to smell," Cassandra responded, wrinkling her nose at the scent of blood and raw meat. Not the most pleasant smell, even though the seeker was no stranger to it.

The impromptu hunting trip had been quite the success, and soon the party was once again on the gravel road, heading back to dump the goods on the Inquisition soldiers.

The rest of the trip in the Hinterlands was short and lacking any more particularly exciting events; a few templars here, a few mages here... Every once in awhile, a bear or two.

Cinna lead the group to Redcliffe Farms, managing to track down Master Dennet... the elf getting ever so slightly edgy whenever the man had called her 'Halla rider', but he backtracked quickly enough that Cinna let it go. She wasn't exactly the most cool-minded person, and being under surveillance via Cassandra didn't help.

The archer couldn't help but groan under her breath whenever Dennet refused to help the Inquisition until their ragtag group assisted _him_ with straightening up the problems with his farm. The only plus was that the old geezer had been generous enough to give her a horse while she went about the tiresome tasks.

Cinna couldn't say she particularly enjoyed trying to mount the large brown steed. The thing was a brute compared to the halla she recalled her people using... Had she had one? She was fairly certain she did, but she couldn't quite remember. Either way, the horse was much less graceful, and Cinna found she had to yank on the reins to make the blasted beast turn. Nonetheless, it was better than walking.

The rest of her party borrowed horses as well, Cassandra much more graceful and accustomed to the mass of the horse she rode, and she directed her mount with ease. Solas didn't seem particularly troubled by his horse, but then Cinna was fairly certain that he bewitched it or something, given how much calmer the animal was compared to hers. Varric was given a pony, and the dwarf was both appreciative and slightly irritated at how much shorter his mount was. He didn't particularly like having his feet so far off the ground. The party set out.

After slaughtering a good handful of wolves and their demon master, marking out ideal spots for watch towers, both processes thankfully sped up by the horses, Cinna all but cried in relief whenever Cassandra decided that they could head back to Haven in the morning. She was saddlesore, stunk of horse, and even though she enjoyed the greens of the grass and the open sky above her head, the natural setting was dampened by the constant demands for help.

As they set up camp, the rather stiff, formal silence broke into a slightly more casual conversation, Cinna listening silently as her companions spoke.

"So, what do you believe the Inquisition would do without our _stabilizing_ influence, Master Tethras?" Solas was saying as he pulled out his bedroll, eying the sun that had begun to drop, streaks of orange and gold staining the blues of the sky.

"I assume they'd just start burning things."

"That does sound like most humans I know."

Cinna had to stifle her chuckle, finding that her fellow non-humans apparently shared her sentiment.

"If you gentlemen are quite finished?" Cassandra's annoyed tone entered the conversation, the woman already done pitching her tent. She punctuated her sentence by tossing some of the kindling she had gathered while the others finished setting up. Apparently she didn't appreciate the assumption of arson.

"Now, now, don't get touchy! We're just here to lend you simple humans our help," Varric said in a slightly mocking tone, a grin on his gruff face.

"Before you cause everything to explode," Solas added in.

"Again." Varric finished, and then the dwarf looked over to Cinna, who had just finished tucking her bedroll into her tent. " Humans. Can't do anything without resorting to violence first, am I right?" Varric said with a grin.

Cinna blinked, surprised at being addressed, but she shrugged and said," What can you expect? If your hammer is large, isn't it just easier to smash the problem's face in _first_ and then ask questions?"

Varric chuckled," Isn't that _everyone's_ mentality though?"

Cinna remained silent.

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><p><strong>Reviews and favorites are greatly appreciated~<strong>


	3. Returning to Haven

**If anyone's curious as to what Cinna actually looks like, she looks like this: post/109055218651/when-youre-tryna-go-off-and-murder-demons-but**

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><p>When Cassandra has been informed that something had come out of the rift that <em>wasn't<em> a demon, she was incredulous... But then it occured to her that nothing in the current predicament was actually reasonable, and so she had gathered all the information she could on the mysterious person that had climbed out of the Fade with Andraste behind her, guiding her way.

Upon her orders, Cassandra had the person chained and held in a cell. Obviously there was something bigger going on, and she would be damned if she was going to show any mercy to strangely the only survivor after the tragedy at the Conclave. She'd scoffed whenever a few soldiers offered up the idea that the woman was Andraste sent, yet despite her ridicule, the idea had also wiggled its way into the back of her mind. It did, in a way, make sense... If, and only _if_, the mysterious person _wasn't_ guilty of the murder of the Divine and hundreds of others, then what, or who, else could have protected them from the energy that had levelled the Conclave?

But Cassandra ignored her own trepidation. for it was agreed that until proven otherwise, the prisoner was accountable for the events at the conclave.

Commander Cullen had been furious whenever he had learned of the events. He had wanted the prisoner to be reprimanded immediately for the murder of the Divine, claiming that they could be dangerous: a threat. It was best to execute them while they were unconscious. Of the heads of the Inquisition, the man had always been of a more aggressive opinion, offering shows of power or simple, quick intimidation tactics for solving problems that were encountered. Cassandra couldn't say that she disagreed with him all the time, but he did sometimes appear to be "the man with the hammer, to which everything seemed to be a nail."

Sister Nightingale, or Leliana, was much more inquisitive of the prisoner. She had insisted that they wait for their captive to wake up, and then question them. Figure out what they knew; if they truly did kill the Divine and all present at the Conclave, why? And how, while still managing to survive themself? It was she who got word of the conclave to start with, before the messengers had arrived. Since the prisoner had arrived, the spy master had been attempting to gather information on her, but based on the annoyed looks on the woman's face, the reports had been either vague, or just nonexistent.

Josephine had been interested in the prisoner, if only for gathering information on what to tell others, the Chantry, the nobility, of the apprehended person. The Inquisition's diplomat had otherwise been preoccupied with other matters. Whether or not she believed the captive was actually the Herald of Andraste or a murderer was kept to herself. Josephine had always been good at hiding her opinions.

The first day Cassandra was actually able to see the famous, eristic prisoner, she was still unconscious.

The prisoner was Dalish. Female. 5''6, 5''5, maybe?. Cassandra stood stoically, peering through the bars of the cell at the elf that had been placed in. The darkness of the room didn't assist with her subjective examination, and Cassandra nearly felt pity for the crumpled form. The hand that had been branded by a jagged glowing line lay palm up. Solas, the elven apostate, had been visiting the woman constantly, examining the mark and trying to figure out just what exactly it was and what it did.

The seeker had no idea what the bald elf gazed at so intently on his nightly visits, but if it was for their cause, to seal that wretched tear in the sky, she would not interfere.

Cassandra left the elf in her cell, her face hard.

So this was the murderer of the Divine.

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Cassandra was surprised.

As soon as she had gotten word that the prisoner was starting to stir, she had hurried to the cell, Leliana on her heels. After kicking open the door, she had felt her anger at losing the Most Holy start to build, especially whenever the elf refused to respond. And then it became clear that the captive elf was confused about why she was exactly imprisoned.

If it was an act, it was a pretty good one, Cassandra had to give her that.

Cassandra had lost her temper whenever the elf claimed to not know where the mark came from. Before _she_ even realized what she was doing, she had lifted the smaller frame of the other woman up, ignoring the added weight of the shackles." You're _lying_!" she had snarled.

Leliana had stopped her from shaking the clearly frightened Dalish, and how desperately Cassandra had wanted to. The raven haired woman had very much wanted to shake the slender, dirtied _murderer_. The evidence all seemed to point to the woman being malicious, and Cassandra probably would've shaken the truth from the woman if she hadn't been stopped.

So it was a surprise to her whenever the elf had agreed to help.

Cassandra sent Leliana to the forward camp, while she herself took the pri- Cinna... to the rift.

Out of the dungeon and into the light, Cassandra found the Dalish elf to not exactly look as she had assumed a Dalish elf would... Sure she had the markings, but her features were clearly exotic... and based on her accent, faint and light as it was, the elf was from Antiva... maybe?

The stranger, Cinna, as she had claimed was her name, had bronze skin, smudges of dirt and small cuts littering her hands and elbows. Her hair was dark red and long, pulled back into a ponytail that had become dirty and slightly matted with blood, upon closer inspection; perhaps from falling out of the Breach. The ink that created the delicate lines of the Dalish markings were the color of rust, and curved above her brow into a pattern that vaguely reminded Cassandra of a circlet, but she doubted that was what it was truly supposed to be.

What had been interesting about Cinna's appearance was the deep scar that cut from her right ear to about an inch from the corner of her mouth, as well as the strange clasp on her right ear. It was gold, and seemed to have been formed and decorated into the guise of a gilded feather. The strange piece of jewelry covered half of the elf's right ear, the feather forming the delicate curve and point of her ear. And also, Cassandra supposed that the girl's eyes could be considered abnormal; they were yellow.

The woman's strange eye color could easily be ignored though when put into perspective with the mark.

The mark was, well, remarkable, to say the least. The two of them had quickly caught up to where Solas and Varric were holding off the steady stream of demons that spawned from the rifts that were becoming increasingly common in the sky. It turned out that Cinna was quite proficient with a bow, although Cassandra had felt her heart skip a beat whenever she had turned around to see the prisoner armed and standing above the dissipating remains of a demon. But whenever it became clear that the elf prisoner wasn't going to be dropping the weapon, and she was reassured that she wasn't going to find an arrow in between her eyes, Cassandra had sheathed her own weapon and grudgingly allowed Cinna to remain armed.

She reminded herself verbally and mentally that the elf _had_ agreed to help, but still, Cassandra followed the marked woman from behind, her hand never leaving the pommel of her sword.

With their little 'party' grown to four, the group had continued forward, led by Cinna, but directed by Cassandra. Eventually they found themselves at the largest of the breaches.

The battle with the pride demon had been rough, and Cassandra found herself silently thanking Cinna as the elf covered her back from the minor demons.

A cry of pain came from the slender archer whenever the demon's whips of electricity slashed at her, and Cassandra furiously cut at the monstrous thing's legs, her sword making little progress on the tough hide. Still though, whenever she straight up stabbed at the weakened skin, the demon shrieked in pain before turning its attention back on the warrior.

Faintly, she registered that Solas had cast a barrier on her as she hacked away at the demon, dodging and blocking the heavy swipes and whips with her shield. She tried to ignore the ache in her ankles and knees after having been repeatedly smacked and thrown into the ground, or crushed against the huge clawed hands of the demon. She was so close, and whenever Cinna disrupted the rift one last time, Cassandra saw her opening as the pride demon fell to one knee, stunned by the sudden burst of power emitted from interruption.

Lips pulled back into a sneer, Cassandra charged the demon, leaping as she plunged her sword in between the eyes of the demon.

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It was Cassandra who had helped support Cinna as they dragged her limp body back to Haven. For the briefest of moments, she had feared that the elf was dead from the power that had been siphoned out of her in her attempt to seal the Breach... But thankfully, this was not so; Solas had declared she was still breathing. Leliana had kindly helped Cassandra with the burden, draping the elf's other arm over her shoulder. Cassandra offered the red haired woman a rare smile.

As they dragged her body back down the mountain, the seeker and the spymaster spoke softly of the events. The Breach hadn't been sealed, but it had at least been secured, which was better than nothing. The sky was scarred, but it no longer spewed demons above Haven, and based on the expressions of the soldiers that had assisted with the whole ordeal, that was enough for now.

Admiration and respect was now held in the eyes of the soldiers as they passed by the newly proclaimed Herald of Andraste, and several men had offered to bear the burden. Cassandra and Leliana found themselves switching out with the men as they made the trek down, meeting up with Cullen's forces halfway down.

A sort of respect found its way into the commander's eyes as the story was relayed to him. "Glad we didn't execute her immediately, Commander?" Leliana asked with a smirk on her face. Cullen sighed as he looked away from the limp elf's battered body, grunting in agreeement. A spark of triumph shone in Leliana's eyes as she offered to carry the Herald the rest of the way back to Haven.

It was four days before the elf woke, once they had returned to Haven.

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The seeker sighed as she saw the obvious discomfort on Cinna's face as they rode back to Haven. As graceful as the woman was with a bow, that grace apparently didn't transfer into riding. The poor stallion's reins were barely tugged at first to indicate a turn, and whenever the horse didn't respond, the reins were _yanked_, causing the beast to whicker miserably before turning sharply, making its rider have to pull the reins _again._

"If I may, _Herald_... You do not need to pull so hard for your steed to turn..." Cassandra said with a raised brow, and whenever Cinna peered back to look at her, Cassandra demonstrated on her own mount, pulling lightly on the reins to make the horse turn right and trot up so she was riding next to the other woman.

"I'm not familiar with horses. As the Commander's horsemaster stated, I'm much more accustomed to halla," Cinna had said with a sniff. Still though, the elf did pat the furry brown neck of her mount in apology. "Halla are much more... graceful, I suppose, than these mounts."

Cassandra cocked an eyebrow, slightly interested in the elf's background. Their meeting was rocky, to say the least, both because Cassandra trusted _Varric_ more than she trusted Cinna at the time, and because they were hiking up the side of a mountain. This being said, the warrior knew near nothing about Cinna other than the meager slivers of reports that Leliana had been able to scrounge up about clan Lavellan.

The dark haired human was still unsure of how much to trust the 'Herald of Andraste'; the elf had looked like she was going to try to make an escape attempt whenever they had been going through the forests of the Hinterlands. Still, she found Cinna to be... alright. Or at least better than she had originally thought, which she supposed wasn't saying much considering she thought Cinna to be a murderer in the beginning.

"It occurs to me that I don't know much about you, Herald..." Cassandra started after a few moments of silence, the two women riding side by side in a slightly uncomfortable silence. Solas and Varric were riding behind them, both looking rather bored as they passed trees, trees, and oh! More trees. One could only handle so much green.

Cinna peered at the human woman through the corner of her eye, not bothering to turn her head as she said slowly," And what would you like to know?" She didn't sound hostile, but there was a strangely guarded look on the elf's face.

"Well... where do you come from?"

"My mother?" the elf offered, a smirk on her face.

A snort of annoyance came in response," Fine. If you wish to be evasive, be that way." Cassandra ignored the snicker of approval she heard from Varric. Of course; she was sure the dwarf would be getting along quite well with the elf, since Cinna seemed to be nearly as evasive as Varric himself.

After a moment of silence, Cinna turned and, still smirking from before, said," I'm not quite sure... I don-," she caught herself, seeming to trip on her words before she continued,"Well, I mean, my clan didn't really pay attention to where we were; we roamed... I _am _sure, however, that our halla were much less tempermental than these beasts!" she pulled the reins on her horse to keep it from walking off the path, growling in annoyance under her breath.

Cassandra didn't miss the way that the elf had paused, but she supposed she'd let it slide; it was dawning on the warrior how uncomfortable it must be for the Herald. To suddenly be yanked out of a life and thrust into the middle of the Inquisition and forced to fix the growing number of problems that sprouted from the Breach, well... It was a wonder that Cinna hadn't attempted to make a serious leap for her freedom yet.

The group reached Haven just before noon on the second day, Cinna practically leaping off her horse as she left it in the hands of the stable keepers.

Cassandra followed after the elf as she made her way to the war room, and the seeker gave a polite nod in the direction of Mother Giselle who was speaking softly to a recruit in the halls of the chantry. Cinna ignored the revered mother, instead forging on until she was pushing the heavy oak doors open, Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine already present.

It was Cassandra who gave the run over of their adventures in the Hinterlands, although Cinna finally spoke whenever Cassandra got to Master Dennet. "Watch towers will have to be built before he will help us," Cinna interjected, her slender fingers quickly pointing on the map that had been spread out on the war table to the designated sites. "Can you send troops to build them, Commander? After all, I believe it was you who requested such horses specifically," she said, wrinkling her nose slightly.

"Of course. I requested them because Ferelden steeds are renowned for their speed, obedience, and endurance; they'd be perfect for the Inquisition... Is there a problem, Herald?" Cullen had explained, although his sentence tapered off whenever he noted the increasingly growing look of incredulity on the elf's face.

"Obedience? I could barely get the beast to stay on the path!" Cinna said, yet despite putting down Cullen's claim, she smiled as she said," If you insist though, I will take your word for it, Commander. Just make sure the towers are built."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, speaking bluntly," Horses do not like to be jerked, Herald. Your steed would've stayed on the path even if you _hadn't_ been directing it... In fact, it is more likely to go _off_ the path if you direct it."

Cinna shrugged," I found it to be brutish and uncomfortable."

" Well, unless you would like to _walk_ all the way to Val Royeaux, Herald, you will have to bear with it," Leliana said gently, grabbing the opportunity to steer the conversation back on track.

Blue eyes holding gold, Leliana motioned for Josephine to explain the plan for Val Royeaux.

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	4. Val Royeaux et l'ami de Red Jenny

**This admittedly took longer than it was supposed to... haha, sorry**

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><p>Cinna couldn't keep the wonderment off of her face as they entered Val Royeaux. The glitter and glam of the elegantly carved golden statues, winged lions that looked as if they could swoop off their pedestals if ever the urge came to them; the vibrance of the flora, red, pink, and white petals lining the path, fresh fat leaves sprouting and spilling over the plants' pots; and the pristine white of the pavement, patterns created from the varying tones of bricks. It was certainly different than the dirt paths and dying shrubbery in Haven, and Cinna would be lying if she said she wasn't a bit starstruck.<p>

A short, high pitched squeal tore the elf from her avid staring of her surroundings. Her head snapped around, her attention turned to the source of the noise; a thin human female (no doubt some sort of noble), had obviously recognized just who they were, or at least that they were armed. Keeping pace with Cassandra, the elf raised an eyebrow ever so slightly as she watched the noblewoman nearly trip over her skirts trying to get out of their way. As amusing as the woman's overreaction had been, Cinna felt a small twinge of despair as well as she wondered if part of the reason the Chantry despised and denounced her was because she was an elf… one that, admittedly, had no care for the Maker or Andraste, both of which being human deities.

"Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are," Varric commented dryly as they approached the tall ornate iron gates.

"Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric," came Cassandra's equally dry response, her upper lip curled into a sneer.

Cinna's eyes latched on to the stone statues that resided in the walls of the corridor. Intricately carved, several noblemen were posed in varying positions, shiny gilded plaques at their feet engraved carefully with inscriptions… A few of which appeared to be vandalized.

An Inquisition scout approached them, kneeling in front of Cassandra. After a moment, Cinna realized that the scout was probably kneeling to her, too, and she blinked as she heard the seeker comment something about the woman being one of Leliana's people.

"The Chantry mothers await you, but so are a great number of templars," the scout reported to Cassandra. A frown tugged at the warrior's lips (a more prominent one than normal, anyway), and suddenly the suggestion of this whole task being a trap became much more believable to Cinna as she imagined herself getting skewered rather pathetically by some templar off his or her rocker.

Suddenly the golden lion statues seemed gaudy to the Herald, the Orlesian design feeling overbearing instead of impressive.

Zoning back into the conversation, Cinna watched as the scout rose from her kneel, while Cassandra pushed past and began to lead their little party into the square. She followed with a small frown. "Cassandra… should we be worried about being attacked? We're fine when we're against a few apostates or bears. Templars, on the other hand? Well trained templars?" she trailed off, allowing the seeker to finish the rest.

Despite the fact that Solas was a mage, and an apostate, the elf seemed relatively at ease with their current predicament, but then Cinna also wasn't able to get a good look at the man's face, given she was walking in _front _of him.

"We will be fine… I do not think the templars will try to instigate anything in the middle of Val Royeaux. More than most likely, it is just an intimidation factor, Herald," came the response, but despite her own words, the dark haired woman couldn't help but feel uneasy at the thought of being surrounded by a hostile party.

The group walked into the elaborate marketplace, strips of crimson fabric hung between the buildings of the square, most painted white or blue with gentle bursts of color from plants or gilded window sills. Cinna felt her breath leave her once again. The scent of flowers was overwhelmed by the strong fragrance of perfume, and if she concentrated enough, she could make out a trace of the salty waters of the Waking Sea.

"Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!" a heavily accented voice cut through the herald's observations, and she blinked as she found that Cassandra had led them to the edge of a throng of Royans, all wearing luxurious looking clothes that just bordered ridiculous, ornate masks perched on some of the richer citizens' noses.

The herald couldn't stop the small sigh that slipped out of her mouth as she was accused once again by the chantry. She was _almost_ glad whenever the Chantry mother's malevolent speech was stopped abruptly and violently. Almost. Cinna heard the anger in her own voice as she snarled at Lord Seeker Lucius, her fingers tingling as she could already feel the smooth wood of her bow under her her finger pads as she pinned this smug, insensitive bastard with an arrow.

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"You know, Herald, if you need to borrow a hankie, you could've just asked instead of dragging us all over Val Royeaux. Look, I have one right here," Varric said dryly as he watched the elf woman scoop up yet another red handkerchief…. What was this, the third one that she had picked up? "I know that those red ones might match your hair or outfit or whatever better, but honestly, is fashion really worth risking running into even more angry, hostile templars? Particularly with Chuckles over here?" the dwarf continues, his thumb jabbing in Solas's direction.

"I'll take you up on that offer next time I have a cold… You heard what that note said yourself; it's not _my _fault red handkerchiefs seem to be the only surplus goods available to our mysterious 'friend'. As for Solas, well…. I'm sure he'll be fine," Cinna responded, starting to pack the kerchief away with the other two.

However, as the small scrap of scarlet cloth was lifted, the elf paused as a small square piece of paper slipped from the silk folds. Deft fingers plucked the folded paper from the balcony's deck, and Cinna straightened slowly as she began to unfold the sheet of parchment. Cassandra quickly moved to the herald's side, peering over the shorter woman's shoulder as a rather hastily drawn map was revealed. Thin red lines had marked an 'X' over a quickly drawn box that was no doubt supposed to represent the balcony that they stood on, while a trail of dotted lines created a path from their current location to what looked like a courtyard buried deeper into the city of Val Royeux. Both the seeker and the archer raised an eyebrow at the repeatedly circled destination, particularly at the strange doodles of bees that lined the map, some of the red ink that formed their rather crude lines smudged, as if the writer had neglected waiting before they folded up the sheet of paper.

"A map? Is this where our mysterious friend admits her undying love for you, and wants to meet with you at midnight so you can be whisked away from the big bad Inquisition that has so horribly kidnapped you as well, Herald?" Varric asked with a raised eyebrow, his lips quirked in a teasing smile. The dwarf was standing on the balls of his feet as he peered over Cinna's arm, examining the yellow parchment with vague interest before rocking back on his heels.

Cinna flipped the map over, her lips quirking slightly at Varric's jibe. She paused as she saw a messily scrawled message with details to what exactly this map was,"Looks like this 'Red Jenny' is trying to set up a rendez-vous with us… How flattering." The letter is folded neatly back into its original square, the crudely drawn map tucked into Lavellan's belt as she peers over the ornate balcony.

Once again, she finds herself at a loss at the opulent aura of the city. She knows that Val Royeaux is notorious for it's borderline garish visage, but she can't help her awe. The glitter, the glamour! The swaths of color mollified by the scintillating gilt that dotted the city as statues and plaques and décor. Despite the disdain that seems to be shared between her three companions with Val Royeaux, Cinna thinks she wouldn't be too miserable if she were forced to reside in the city.

Turning around, she offers a thin smirk," Let's go meet my secret admirer, hm?"

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The encounter with the anonymous 'friend' was surprising, to say the least. Last time Cinna checked, no one was ever particularly pleased with having a fireball thrown at their head, and she could've sworn that she smelled burnt hair, but that small ordeal had paled in comparison to the rather eccentric personality of Red Jenny… Well, Sera, technically.

Cinna was still trying to comprehend how the elf had managed to snatch the britches off of _so many _men without them noticing until, no doubt, at least half of the guard's pants were missing. And yet, despite the fact that this elf was psychotic, despite the fact that this elf was a complete stranger, despite the fact that this elf referred to her as 'glowy', the herald found herself agreeing to letting Sera join the Inquisition. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she had the power to allow people in and out of the Inquisition! She supposed that the three 'advisors', as she was told to call them, couldn't complain. It's not like she had _wanted_ the job of herald anyway.

And besides, there was legitimate justification for why such a loose canon, a wild card, should be (and is) allowed into the Inquisition. The rag-tag organization was sparce in forces and allies, and it was obvious that they needed all the help it could get. Sera seemed to have contacts littered throughout Thedas, and, well, this was also assuming that the elf hadn't been spewing bullshit whenever she had been briefing the motley crew on what she could offer to the Inquisition in terms of skill sets… But Cinna figured that, even if the rogue was completely useless, it technically wasn't her fault, because how was she supposed to know who to recruit and who not to?

And so the supposed Herald of Andraste watched as Sera gave her a crooked grin and a mock salute before turning her back on them and trotting back up the steps of the alleyway, leaping agilely over the dead bodies that littered the street and stained the previously white stones red.

Slinging her bow back over her shoulder, Cinna was soon leading her party up the steps as well, doing her best not to trip on the newly slick stones.

She couldn't help but snort whenever she saw, tucked away into a crevice behind a thick pillar and the wall, a thick sack filled to the brim with pants, no doubt belonging to the soldiers that littered the ground.

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And so Cinna found herself once again traveling on horseback back to Haven, her party forming a neat line as they set off at a leisurely trot. They had spent the night in an Orlesian inn, enjoying a mug of beer and a hot meal, deciding to make the trip back in the morning as it was dark. The meeting with Sera had taken more time than originally predicted, and the sun was already sinking in the sky by the time they had navigated their way back out of the labyrinthine streets of the back alleys.

The entire time they had been attempting to find their way back to the main square, Cinna couldn't shake the feeling of malaise as they walked through the narrow alleyways, a small frown on her face. She couldn't put her finger on why, but she felt undeniably unnerved as they ambled from path to path. Subconsciously, the elf had started to walk ever so slightly closer to Cassandra, her form stiff and her ears perked.

Cassandra wasn't oblivious to this either, and the seeker raised an eyebrow at the subtle signs of unease the herald was showing. The seeker took silent note of this as they walked, and she couldn't help but feel slight sympathy for the elf's discomfort. But thankfully, they eventually managed to find their way back to the bazaar, the herald gradually relaxing as they entered the open space once again.

And so they were one the road once again. Cinna might've found the soft clopping of hooves on hardened dirt oddly relaxing if it weren't for the fact that she was incredibly saddle sore from previous riding. With one hand gripping the horn of the saddle and the other clenched, the reins crushed, Cinna tried not to wince as she bounced up and down on the hulking beast below her. It didn't help that her body was completely clenched, only making the riding worse on her poor, already aching body.

She almost missed being lost in Val Royeaux. Almost.

By the time they arrived back in Haven, the sun had once again begun to set. Sweaty, furry, and no doubt reeking of horse, the troop seemed to collectively cheer as the stables came into view, their exhausted steeds equally relieved to see the end of their ride in clear sight.

Swinging off of her horse, Cinna nearly fell over. It felt like her knees were turning to jelly, and she struggled to keep from falling down; now that would be embarrassing. But then, glancing at the other members of her party and seeing they seemed to be just as wobbly as her (although Cassandra didn't stay that way for long, being a seasoned rider), she felt slightly better.

Approaching the gates as the horses were quickly tended to by servants of the Inquisition, the Dalish elf felt her muscles screaming in protest as she pushed open the heavy wooden doors. The cool arctic air did little to soothe the heat and slight feeling of itchiness that had festered under her leather armor, and Cinna hesitantly stared at the wooden structures- err, houses- as she attempted to identify which one exactly was the one she had woken up in.

"Herald, we need to report to the Chantry before you retire. Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen need to be informed on what happened in Val Royeaux… and also, perhaps a bath?" Cassandra had caught up with her, and even though she knew that the seeker was undoubtedly correct about what _should _be done, the elf glared at the woman she had come to see as a babysitter.

"I'm covered in horse sweat, I'm aching horribly, and I smell like a barn… As you've so kindly pointed out. Can't we report in the morning? Or maybe there's a scout that can do it for us? I thought that was the point of your Inquisition's scouts… to deliver messages?" the elf hated the slight tone of desperation in her voice, and she could only hope that Cassandra didn't hear it. Cinna continued to half walk, half limp along the path, ignoring the strange looks she got from dwelling Inquisition servants, instead focusing on trying to inconspicuously peer into the windows of each house to see if she could spot anything, _anything_ even remotely familiar.

Watching the small frame of the elf woman hobble along the path caused a slightly peeved grunt to come from the warrior. It was just the right amount of pathetic to make her feel bad for the herald. Cassandra wasn't heartless, despite whatever Varric might claim," Fine. Go clean yourself up; I will report to your advisers. And it's that hut over there that you can sleep in, for now… Good night, Lavellan."

Cinna nearly tripped over her own feet at the words that were coming from the hardened woman behind her, and she whipped her head back to skeptically stare at Cassandra, wondering if she was having her leg pulled or if she was really being let off the hook.

Cassandra herself was surprised at her offer, and she stared back at Cinna, waiting for the other woman to respond. The elf… _had _been through a lot, and the complaints were quite undeniable with the woman's given state. Clearing her throat, she strode past the elf," You're welcome."

"I… thanks, Cassandra," came the admittedly late response.

The herald watched as the darker haired human strode away, her steps confident and strong despite the slight droop of her shoulders, possibly the only physical indication of Cassandra's own exhaustion. Cinna felt a new burst of respect for the warrior as she made her way towards the house she was fairly certain was the one that had been indicated.

Her head had barely touched the pillow before she fell asleep.

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